


How Causes Dance Away From Me

by Chash



Series: Weary With Right Angles [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Minor Bellamy Blake/Nathan Miller - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan Miller tells his parents his soulmate's name is Mary Green, because he doesn't know if he can tell them the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Causes Dance Away From Me

Nate has never been as scared of anything as he is of getting his soulmate tattoo.

"It's not going to be that bad, is it?" asks Harper. "It's just a name." She got hers two weeks ago, and he'll see her touching it through her shirt sometimes, disbelieving, almost awed. Not used to having another girl's name on her yet, not sure how to process it. He's as happy for her as he is jealous.

"If I get one, it can go one of two ways," he says. "One, it's a girl, and I can tell my parents, but it's a girl, and I don't like girls. Two, it's a guy, and I'm happy, but I can't tell my parents. And if it's somewhere obvious, I'm going to have to figure out how to hide it and not tell them until--I don't even know. Maybe I never tell them."

"Are you sure you can't tell them?" Harper asks. "They've never had a problem with me, and they know I'm gay, right?"

"You're not their kid." He worries his lip. "You remember when my grandpa died last summer?"

"Yeah."

"We were helping my grandma clean out her place and we found these pictures of my mom and my uncle with another girl. I didn't even know about her. My cousin asked about it, and Grandma went off on a tear about how she was dead to her, no daughter of hers, all this--man. It was scary. I've never seen her get like that. And my mom just got really quiet, finally told us that she'd _chosen to be with another woman_ and she wasn't a part of the family anymore."

"Holy shit, really?"

"Yeah."

"But your dad is cool."

"I thought my mom was cool too," he points out, and she winces.

"I'm sorry." She nods, mostly too herself. "Okay, so--we'll have a party. You can sleep over at my house, and then you won't be home if it shows up, so you'll have time to figure out what you're going to do. We'll figure it out."

"Thanks," he says, and Harper smiles.

"What are friends for?"

He has a dream the night before his birthday, where he wakes up with _GAY_ literally tattooed on his forehead. The name _Monty Green_ in small, neat letters on his wrist isn't quite as bad as that, but it's close. He feels an immediate rush of relief--he was _right_ , he does like guys, he's _supposed_ to be with a guy--and then a surge of fear, because it's on his fucking _wrist_. It's so obvious.

"We can work with that," says Harper, practical as always, and they go and buy a leather wristband for him, one of the thick ones made just for these occasions. It's not even that suspicious, honestly; it's pretty common for people with names that aren't covered by their clothing to wear something to hide it. It's a lot of information for a stranger to have about you. And he's always been a private guy. It doesn't have to be a big thing. It doesn't have to be anything at all.

"Did you get a name?" his dad asks, when he gets home.

Nate's mouth feels like it's full of sand, his tongue gigantic and heavy. But he manages to say, "Mary Green."

Dad smiles. "That's great, Nate."

"Yeah," he says. "I'm really happy."

*

College is better. He goes to Boston, which is both fairly liberal and really far away from Texas, and he can relax a little. He's one of two Nates in his freshman dorm, so he starts going by Miller, and it makes him feel really _different_. Like it's a fresh start. He scopes out a few LGBT groups and joins one, hooks up with a few guys, nothing _serious_ , but--actual experience with sex, which is nice. No sign of Monty Green, but he's not in a rush for that.

He tries and fails to not develop a mild thing for his roommate, but--yeah, of course he does. Bellamy's unfairly hot and doesn't really believe in wearing shirts after like ten pm, and Nate is only human. But Bellamy is straight, and Nate can see the name of his soulmate on his arm, never close enough to actually read it, but this stark reminder that, everything else aside, they're heading in different directions. And, everything else aside, he _likes_ Bellamy. For non-shallow, platonic reasons. He's a good friend, loyal and trustworthy, with a sarcastic sense of humor and easy acceptance of the people he loves that makes Nate feel almost guilty for taking over a year to come out to him. They aren't living together sophomore year, because they did well enough in the housing lottery that they could get singles, but their pick for junior year is shitty, and Nate decides it's unfair to ask Bellamy to live in a double with him again when Bellamy doesn't even know he's gay.

"Hey, can I tell you something?" he asks.

"Who says no to that?" Bellamy grumbles. "That's such a dick move."

"You're a dick."

"Yeah, but there's dick and then there's _how dare you speak to me_." He finishes up whatever he was typing and turns to Nate. "What's up?"

"Look, I should have told you this sooner, but you should definitely know before we decide to move in together again--I'm gay."

It's only the second time he's actually come out to someone like this. He came out to the LGBT group he's in, but in a general sense, and just being there did most of the work for him. Other than that, it was just Harper, in high school, and now Bellamy. And he'd already known Harper was gay herself, so it was easier.

But Bellamy is, well, Bellamy, so he just stares for a second and then says, "Thank god, I need so much help with sexuality," and then flushes a little and gives Nate an embarrassed smile. "Shit, that's not what you're supposed to say when someone comes out to you, huh?"

Nate has to laugh, because--it's not, probably, but it's kind of awesome, at the same time. It's one of his favorite things about Bellamy, the guy just has such a shitty poker face when he's taken by surprise, Nate never has to worry that he's hiding shit. Bellamy is obviously genuinely fine with Nate being gay.

And he's having sexuality issues of his own, which, well. Nate would be lying if he said he wasn't pretty excited about that. And he's a little jealous too, once Bellamy explains. He wonders what it would be like, to feel so easy with himself that he could just wear Monty Green's name on his sleeve, to not care if anyone saw. Nate could have read it a thousand times freshman year, and it never bothered Bellamy at all.

He doesn't know how to be like that.

"Here are my top picks for rooms I think we can get next year, by the way," Bellamy tells him the next day. They're all doubles. "I realized I never got around to saying I wanted to live with you, because I'm too self-centered."

Nate just rolls his eyes. "Yeah. You're a real asshole, Blake."

*

Nate wants to say nothing changes, he really does, but _something_ is different. He's not sure what, can't put his finger on it, but there's a shift in the way they are together, and he's antsy about it for a month, until they're drunk and Bellamy says, "You can say no."

Nate didn't think he was drunk enough to be losing parts of the conversation, so this is probably on Bellamy. His train of thought is hard enough to follow when they're both sober. "To what?"

"I wanna make out," he says, and Nate's heart stops. "Not, you know--not just for sexual confusion, that's fucking shitty. I was like the most out kid in my high school and I wasn't even--all these closeted kids wanted to hook up and I couldn't be that guy, you know? I wasn't into them. And I'd never just--use someone. Especially not you. And I know you've got a soulmate and I've got a soulmate, but I still want to make out. You're awesome, and--"

It's about all Nate can take, because, well. He and Bellamy aren't soulmates. They aren't going to be together forever.

But if Bellamy wants to be together for a night, Nate's not going to argue with him.

So when he wakes up the next morning with Bellamy in his bed, he's a little worried it's going to go wrong. Just a couple friends spooning after making out and handjobs. Normal, bro stuff. Right.

"You awake?" Bellamy asks, voice husky. It goes straight to Nate's dick, which is awkward.

"Yeah. Breakfast?"

"Fuck that," says Bellamy, and rolls them over so Nate's on top of him, pulls him down for a kiss. It's sharper, now that he's sober, _better_ , Bellamy firm and so fucking _willing_ under him, all eagerness. Nate can feel the line of his hardening dick against his leg as he presses Bellamy down, kisses him wet and deep, and it doesn't seem worth worrying about yet.

It's not going to be forever. But it can be for now.

*

When it ends, it's Nate's fault, if it's anyone's. It might not be, honestly, but--Bellamy was trying to put some minimal effort into making them into an actual _couple_ , and Nate was having none of it. Because it's too easy to imagine a world where his soulmate _is_ Bellamy Blake, where he went through a few months of panic between his birthday and getting his freshman roommate's name, thinking Bellamy was a girl, and then found out he was wrong and he and Bellamy just--were. Easy soulmates who played video games and made out and loved each other in an uncomplicated way that didn't require Nate to do any grand gestures or even buy dinner, aside from picking up pizza sometimes.

But that's not the world he lives in, and Bellamy's probably glad it's not. Bellamy probably wants a soulmate who likes affection and occasionally going out on dates. A soulmate who isn't in the closet. 

A soulmate who, well--who isn't Nate. And that's fine. Nate probably needs a soulmate who doesn't make him feel vaguely guilty sometimes, too. They're better off as best friends who don't make out. They are. Bellamy goes back to hooking up with girls 90% of the time and Nate goes back to hooking up with guys he doesn't know, and they stay friends, which--Nate doesn't know what he'd do without Bellamy, so it's definitely for the best. Bellamy gets him through his _fuck what do I major in_ crisis and gives him a reason to stay in Boston after graduation, and Nate talks Bellamy through grad-school applications and convinces him to not try to fight his little sister's soulmate, because Lincoln is cool and seems like a genuinely good guy, and is also like twice Bellamy's size and would win the fight with no effort at all. 

And then there's the Monty Green conversation, because Monty Green suddenly _exists_ , in the tangible world. Bellamy has _met him_. It's so much to take in.

"I think we have to have one more conversation we never talk about again," he tells Bellamy. Octavia's gone and he's pleasantly buzzed, enough to take the edge off the panic.

"Sure," says Bellamy. He has his head in Nate's lap, and Nate really hopes that Clarke Griffin likes snuggling, because Bellamy is like a fucking cat when he's drunk. "Is it about sex? Is that why we were waiting for O to leave?"

"My parents don't know I'm gay," he says, in a rush. "I told them my soulmate was Mary Green."

"Shit, that sucks," says Bellamy, eloquent as always.

"I've got an aunt I've never met because her soulmate is a woman. I didn't know she existed." He licks his lips. "I haven't even met him yet and I'm already lying to my parents about him."

"If he's any good as a soulmate, he'll get that. And if he's not, I'll kick his fucking ass anyway."

Nate snorts. "Your sister's right, you're gonna get so fired."

"I don't give a shit," says Bellamy. "You're worth it."

And, yeah. Clarke Griffin better be fucking _perfect_.

*

"So, um," says _Monty Green_. He's wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and a pair of glasses with delicate silver frames, smiling nervously. Nate doesn't know what any part of his body is feeling. It's like he's plugged into a live wire or something, his whole body lit up with energy. "Do you prefer Miller or Nathan or...?"

"I usually go by Nate," he says. "We just had two Nates in our freshman dorm so I was Miller and he was--" He glances at Bellamy. "Bellyflop?"

"For the first semester," Bellamy says. He's playing with his phone in a deliberate way that says _I'm here but I'm not paying attention to you guys_. It is total bullshit. "Then he switched to Kegstand."

"I got the better end of that one," Nate says. Monty's smile relaxes a little, and it causes a minor disaster in Nate's entire chest area. His fucking _soulmate_.

"Cool, I was already calling you Nate. When I thought about you." He worries his lip; Nate tries not to stare and does a shitty job of it. "So--Bellamy said you like video games?" He sounds weirdly hopeful about it, like video games are some obscure interest he never dreamed Nate might share.

"Yeah."

"Favorite platform?"

"Probably 3DS, honestly. I don't care about the 3D, but there are some great games. I've been hooked on Fire Emblem: Awakening for weeks."

"Male or female tactician?"

"Female, so I could marry a guy. Since I couldn't just be gay."

"Did you hear that's supported in the next one?"

Nate has to smile; his enthusiasm is catching. "Yeah, I did."

"So who'd you marry?"

"Lon'qu."

Monty nods. "Excellent choice. Strong, silent type." He worries his lip. "So you are, um, gay?"

"Yeah."

"Me too." Nate braces himself for a follow-up, something about family or dating or something else serious, but instead he says, "So, have you played Ni no Kuni?" and they end up talking video games until Octavia comes over to poke Nate's shoulder.

"We're _closing_ ," she says, with barely contained glee. "I have to kick you guys out."

"Shit," says Nate, looking at his phone. It's 8:55. They've been here for almost three hours. "Sorry. You missed the dining hall."

"It's fine. I was having fun."

"Cool." 

"There's a cheap pizza place around the corner," Monty offers, hesitant. "If you're hungry."

"Starving, now that I think about it. Later, little Blake," he adds, over his shoulder. 

"Bye, Miller. Bye, Miller's soulmate," says Octavia, and it makes Nate's palms go clammy, because he _is_.

This is his soulmate.

"Where do you work?" Monty asks, once they're outside.

"This startup in Somerville. It's--kind of a nightmare, honestly, but they pay pretty well and I'm getting good experience. I do web design and programming shit."

"Oh, cool. Awesome." He bites back another smile. "Thank goodness you like video games and computer science, because you look completely out of my league."

Nate feels his face heat up. "I'm definitely not." He wonders if it would be weird to text Bellamy to brag that his soulmate thinks he's hot.

Yeah, it definitely would be.

"I'm probably a pretty shitty soulmate," Nate admits, rubbing the leather of his bracelet. 

"Why?"

"Shitty dating history."

"You went out with Bellamy, right?"

"Sort of. He's the closest I've got to a real boyfriend."

"I don't have any boyfriends at all," says Monty. "And Bellamy said you were great. He told me I won the soulmate lottery." He smiles. "I think he was trying to be intimidating, but it was just nice. How much he cares about you."

"He's a dick," Nate says, since he and Bellamy are mostly incapable of sustained emotional support. "See? This is what I'm talking about. I can't even deal appropriately with my best friend saying nice shit about me."

"Well, he does seem like kind of a dick too," Monty says, teasing, and Nate smiles.

"Kind of, yeah."

They cover more standard first-date stuff over pizza; Nate finds out Monty was born in South Korea, but was adopted as a baby by a couple who live in Providence. He's known his best friend Jasper since kindergarten, and they're still taking classes together, which is a little unreal to Nate. The closest he comes to a friend like that is Harper, and their relationship these days is sending each other weird memes over Facebook and getting drunk together when they're both back in Texas at the same time, which is as little as possible. Nate doesn't hate the entire state of Texas, but he definitely hates his hometown.

Monty reveals that he's out to his parents with the casual ease of someone who didn't worry about coming out to his parents, as an aside more than an event. Nate finds he's more happy that it was easy for Monty than he is jealous, which is nice.

He doesn't mention his own history, and tells himself it's just not the right time. It's not cowardice, it's just--he's having a really fucking good time, and he doesn't want that to fall apart yet.

"I better get going," Monty says, reluctant, when there is absolutely no excuse for them to stay longer. "I have class at nine tomorrow and I haven't done my reading."

"Yeah, I've got work." 

They're quiet for a minute, and then Monty says, "I guess this is the problem when neither of us date."

Nate smiles a little. "Yeah."

"So, um, do you want to play video games on Friday? That's how this works, right? Hanging out? Getting to know each other?"

"Yeah," says Nate, feeling fondness well up in him, inevitable. "I think so."

*

The next day is pretty great, right up until Nate gets home from work. He and Monty exchanged numbers after dinner, and they text on and off all day, Monty sending commentary on his reading while Nate just sends him the same "my boss is a lunatic" texts he does Bellamy, and it's fun. His heart speeds up every time he sees Monty's sent something, and that's kind of--exciting. He doesn't do crushes often, and this one is more fun than most, because it's going to be reciprocated, right? Monty likes him too. They're soulmates.

Then he gets home and sees the Facebook friend request.

"I don't get it," says Bellamy, because he's fucking _useless_. "What's the big deal?"

"My parents are on Facebook."

"Yeah, but--they don't know his name, right?"

"I told them Mary Green. What if they see I know a Monty Green and ask if they're related?"

"It's a pretty common last name. And you can just say no, right? No relation." He pauses and adds, "Okay, I guess lying about it would feel pretty shitty now," so Nate doesn't have to actually murder him. Which is nice.

"Basically, yeah."

"Have you told him about your parents yet?"

"No."

"When are you going to see him again?"

"Tomorrow."

"Then I'd ignore it until tomorrow. That's an in-person conversation. But he seems like a good guy. Maybe he'll be able to help."

It's a good plan, honestly, and Nate knows it, but he still feels antsy and almost cowardly. He can't even accept a _Facebook friend request_. What kind of shitty soulmate won't even take a Facebook friend request?

Bellamy goes to hang out with his sister on Friday, to give Nate and Monty privacy, which is sort of appreciated but also sort of terrifying. He and Monty probably need to have a serious discussion of their relationship and how they want to be soulmates, which sounds so much worse than just playing video games and making fun of Bellamy.

And then he actually _sees_ Monty and instantly feels, if not better, than at least--well, it's easier to remember why this awkwardness is going to be worth it. He _likes_ Monty. He wants this to work. He wants to work for it.

"Hey," says Monty. "I brought my Ouya, and also some chips and salsa, because I thought I should bring food and I didn't know what you like or if you had food allergies or anything so these seemed like a pretty good way to hedge my bets."

"Hi," says Nate. "No food allergies, but thanks. I like snack food."

"Cool." There's a pause, and then he says, "I still don't know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, me neither. What do people usually do with their soulmates?"

"I asked my mom, she told me she and my dad went out on dates and got to know each other. I told her people don't really do that anymore."

Nate cracks a small smile. "You told your mom?"

"Yeah, I usually talk to her on Friday afternoon."

It's not going to make it better if he waits. "My parents think my soulmate's name is Mary Green," he admits.

"Oh," says Monty, soft. "That's--shit."

"Sorry."

"Why are _you_ sorry? It sucks that you can't tell them. Are they--" He frowns. "You know what, let's not do this in the doorway. Do you want alcohol? Is this an alcohol situation? Do you like hugs?"

Nate lets out a sharp bark of surprised laughter. "I don't hate hugs or anything," he says. "But yeah, come on in. We can be somewhere more comfortable. Am I illegally giving you booze?"

"My birthday is in April, so, yeah."

"What kind of illegal booze do you like?"

"The free kind."

Nate grabs a bottle of gin and puts the chips and salsa into bowls, like a real host, and then heads back to the living room. Monty's sitting on the floor in front of the TV, hooking up his Ouya.

"Not for now, just whenever you want," he says. He scoots back to lean against the couch next to Nate. "So, do you want to talk about your parents? Everyone tells me I'm a great listener. I'm not actually, I'm just shy so I don't talk much. But I'll put in the effort for you."

"We're from a pretty conservative town," says Nate. "I figured my parents probably weren't, just because--" He makes a face. "Black conservatives never make sense to me. But a few months before my birthday I found out I had an aunt I didn't even know about, and my grandma disowned her for being gay. And I didn't know how to tell my parents. I figured maybe I'd have a girl name and it wouldn't be an issue, but--" He rubs his thumb against his wrist. "I got you."

Monty's watching him, and when Nate catches his eye, he reaches over, slow. "Is that where your tattoo is?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see?" Nate nods, and Monty reaches over, unties the band and slides it off. Bellamy's seen the tattoo, in passing, but Monty's the first person since Harper to really _look_ at it. His fingers trace over the letters, delicate and curious, and Nate can't breathe for a second. When he recovers the ability, it comes out ragged, and Monty's eyes snap to his. "Sorry," he murmurs, and Nate shakes his head, leans in to kiss him.

Monty makes a soft noise, surprised, but he wraps his fingers around Nate's wrist to keep him close and brings his other hand up to cup Nate's cheek. His mouth is clumsy against Nate's, unsure, and it's clear he hasn't kissed many people before. Maybe he hasn't kissed _anyone_ , maybe Nate's going to get to be the only one.

"It's okay," he says, soft, just barely pulling back.

Monty smiles a little. "Was it really obvious that was my first kiss?"

"Not in a bad way."

Monty snorts. "What's the good way to be a twenty-year-old virgin who's never even been kissed?"

"I get to be the first one." It doesn't look like it makes Monty feel better, so he hastens to add, "Not that I'd care if I wasn't, I'm not one of those assholes who thinks my soulmate should only be with me."

That gets a small smile. "Is that really a problem for people?"

"Bellamy's mom's soulmate wanted her to give him up for adoption so he wouldn't have to remember that she had sex before she met him."

"Wow," says Monty. "That's--wow." He leans against Nate's side, hesitant, like he's testing if he likes the feel of it. "How did you--I'm kind of curious. About you and Bellamy."

"We met freshmen year of college. He was my roommate. He didn't wear a shirt a lot, so I had a thing for him."

"He does look like he'd look good without a shirt," Monty muses.

"Stick around long enough and you'll see." He takes a swig of gin. "He always thought he was straight, but his soulmate is a guy. So he was doing some sexuality soul-searching for a while. I was the first gay guy he'd met he was attracted to, and we hooked up for a few months." He bites his lip, but--lying isn't going to help. "I think he would have been happy if we got more serious, but I just told him he was being stupid and we fizzled out when a guy asked me on a date." He leans his head against the couch. "Like I said, lousy boyfriend."

"But you guys are still friends. And he loves you. So you couldn't have fucked up that badly."

"No, but--"

"I'm not sure if I'm into sex," Monty says, in a rush. "So I'm definitely worse at relationships than you are."

Nate isn't great on the parts of the queer-spectrum that aren't the G or the B, but he knows a little about asexuality. Enough to be sure it's not even close to mutually exclusive with happy relationships.

"That's not really a dating thing," he says, careful. "Sex and dating are separate."

"Yeah, but apparently you don't date and just have sex," he says. It sounds more sad than accusatory, but it still makes Nate feel like shit.

"Just with Bellamy," he says, but it's not true. He doesn't date people. He hooks up. "That's--it's what I could get easily. That doesn't mean it's what I _want_."

Monty looks up at him, surprised. "What do you want?"

It's not something Nate's thought about much in the last few years. He's been mostly happily single, good with his right hand and the hope of a soulmate someday. "How's kissing for you?"

Monty flushes. "Good. Definitely good."

"Then, yeah, I'm set."

Monty's look is decidedly suspicious. "All you want from a soulmate is kissing?"

"And video games. Maybe sleeping over. Making fun of Bellamy." He leans in to press his mouth against Monty's again, smiles when Monty's response is surer this time. "If you wanted more, I'd take it. But I've got a right hand and it works pretty well."

"Oh," says Monty. "Well, I'm not--I'm not ruling anything out yet. I think I should try it once, at some point, just to be sure."

Nate smiles. "Yeah. Whatever you want. What's on your Ouya?"

*

They take it slow. Monty is shy about trying physical stuff and Nate is just as shy about emotional stuff, so it feels almost like they're stuttering sometimes, trying to get on the same page. Monty's friend Jasper is a little jealous, in a friend way, and Monty makes excuses for him while Nate feels vaguely resentful. He's sure it's just that Jasper assumed he'd find his soulmate first, and he's annoyed that Monty got his. But he's Monty's best friend, and Nate loves Monty, so he keeps his mouth shut. It's not like Bellamy isn't periodically weird, and he and Nate used to actually date, so starting the _your relationship with your best friend is a little weird_ argument seems like a terrible idea. And they're dealing with it.

They make out a lot, which is fucking awesome, and Monty is tentatively experimenting with other things, trying to figure out what he likes. So far he's found he likes giving and receiving handjobs, mostly for the experience of doing it _with_ Nate, and he finds it pretty hot how wound up Nate gets talking about blowing him, which Nate thinks is a decent indication he'll someday be willing to let Nate actually blow him, and that he'll probably enjoy it. 

Having a soulmate is pretty awesome, as far as Nate's concerned.

"Are you even listening to me?" Monty asks.

"Not really. What's up?"

Monty rolls his eyes. "Are you going home for Thanksgiving?"

"No, too expensive. Not until Christmas."

Monty nods. "I figured. I assume you usually go to Bellamy's, but my parents said I should invite you."

Nate freezes up, the same spike of guilt running up his back that always happens when he thinks about Monty's parents, as compared to his.

He's been dating his soulmate for two months, and they're still not even Facebook friends, because of his parents.

"Nate," says Monty, putting his hand over Nate's. "It's just an invitation. You don't have to--"

"I want to." He wets his lips. "I'm going to tell my parents over Christmas. So if I show up on your doorstep with all my shit--"

"Then you'll be welcome," says Monty firmly. "And you should come for Thanksgiving. So you know where to flee."

"Sure," says Nate, giving him a kiss. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you're coming." He pulls out his phone. "Okay, Thanksgiving conversation, check."

"I can't believe you have an actual to-do list with conversations you're planning to have," says Nate, fond.

"Just because you only talk to three people doesn't mean the rest of us do."

"Wait, who's the third person?"

Monty snorts. "Me, Bellamy, and sometimes Octavia, if you don't know where Bellamy is."

"Two and a half," says Nate.

"Whatever. If I didn't have this to-do list, I wouldn't have remembered I need to email Clarke."

He doesn't know how to not freeze. It's not like--well, it's not like _Bellamy_ , there are plenty of people in the world named Clarke. It doesn't have to be _him_ , but it feels like it should be. Bellamy found Nate's soulmate, so Nate is going to find Bellamy's. That's how it's supposed to be. Fair's fair.

"I don't think I know Clarke, why do you need to email him?" Nate asks, casual.

Monty looks unimpressed. "Clarke Griffin," he says, and Nate's heart actually stops. " _She's_ my lab partner in biochem, we have a lab report due, she's--"

Nate will never know exactly what Monty was going to say about Clarke Griffin, because he completely loses it. He's not sure he's ever laughed so hard in his entire life. It's just--it's fucking _hilarious_. Because of course, Monty knows Clarke Griffin, and of course she's a _girl_. Bellamy spent like three years freaking out about not being into his soulmate, dated two guys, and finally concluded that he would make it work, and Clarke Griffin is a girl.

Monty looks genuinely terrified. "Nate? What's--why?"

Nate finally regains enough breath and composure to say, "Holy shit, Clarke Griffin is a _girl_."

"Yes?"

"She's--she's Bellamy's soulmate."

"I thought you said Bellamy--oh," he says, soft. "He thinks Clarke Griffin is a guy."

"Yup."

"He's not gay though, right?" Monty asks, slow. "You said he was figuring out liking guys, so--he still likes girls, right? He could still like Clarke."

Nate nearly loses it again, but instead he says, "Do you have her on Facebook?"

Monty gets his phone and pulls up Clarke Griffin, this beautiful blonde girl with a little weariness lurking around her eyes, and it makes something twinge in Nate.

Bellamy's soulmate.

"Are you guys friends?"

"Working on it," says Monty. "She just transferred this semester, she doesn't really have friends yet. But I like her. Why?"

"You should invite her over on Friday," Nate says. "I'll buy you dinner."

"So, I invite her over and ditch her? Why don't you just tell Bellamy? He told us."

"Because it's Bellamy," says Nate, dropping his head onto Monty's shoulder. "Trust me, if you just tell him Clarke Griffin is a girl you know, he'll psych himself out so hard he'll walk into oncoming traffic or something." He pauses. "Also, it'll be really fucking funny."

Monty worries his lip, thinking it over. "I'm just agreeing to this because I think Clarke would kind of psych herself out too. I'm doing it to be _nice_ , not because I think it's going to be funny."

Nate kisses his shoulder. "That's fine. I think it's funny enough for both of us."

*

"Bellamy said I should talk to you about parents."

It's a week after Thanksgiving; Bellamy and Clarke have been together for three weeks, and she already spends most of her time in the apartment. Nate doesn't mind--he likes Clarke, and she makes Bellamy unreal happy--but he actually set up a jar Bellamy has to put money in every time he ever _hints_ that the two of them took it even a little bit slow. Because, seriously, they are ridiculous. They wouldn't know slow if tried to pry them apart. Which it couldn't. Because they're _ridiculous_.

"What about them?"

Clarke boosts herself onto the counter next to the sink, where he's doing dishes. "I have no idea, honestly. He just said he couldn't do it because his weird parental issues aren't a good match for yours, and I might have more luck."

"What are your weird parental issues?"

"My dad doesn't have a soulmate so I felt really guilty that I did," she says, easily. "Like I was letting him down. We talked it through, though. I'm mostly good now."

"Huh," says Nate. "My mom's sister got disowned for having a female soulmate, so my parents don't know I'm gay. I'm coming out at Christmas."

"Jesus, Bellamy," Clarke says, with fond exasperation. "Those are not really similar issues."

Nate has to smile. "Yeah, well. It's closer than Bellamy's daddy issues."

"True." She cocks her head at him. "So--what's the plan?"

"For what?"

"Coming out."

He wets his lips. "I'm thinking about asking Monty to come with me. Just for a few days. And then if they disown me, I can just come back with him."

"That would probably be good," Clarke says. "Backup is good. Coming out to my parents wasn't too bad, so--I don't have a lot of advice on that." She worries her lip. "Are you sure your mom agreed with your grandma? How old was she?"

"I don't actually know," he says, surprised by the question. He tries to remember the picture he saw, the three children together. His mother is three years younger than her uncle, and the sister looked older. She might have only been thirteen or fourteen. And her maiden name is Jackson, so even if his mother had tried to track her down, it could have been difficult. "She never mentioned it, though. And she got weird when Grandma brought it up."

"Yeah," Clarke says. She shrugs. "I don't know, obviously. But if she was little and her mom did it, she might not have agreed. And she might have changed her mind. So--I hope it works out for you." Her smile is hard to read, but it makes a lump rise in Nate's throat. "And the kind of belief Bellamy has in soulmates? I've got that in parents. Parents love you. And if they don't, then they don't deserve you."

"Monty's parents thought I was a polite young man."

"Wow. You really fooled them."

Nate snorts. "Shut up, Clarke."

*

In the end, he decides not to bring Monty. Not because he wouldn't have come--he said he would--but he doesn't need Monty to be with him to come out. If it goes well, he can come down later. Another time. And if it goes poorly, he doesn't want Monty to have to see it. Besides, he hasn't seen Monty lose his temper yet, and he thinks that might do it, and, if he's honest, he's mildly terrified of what Monty would look like if he lost his temper.

So he goes home alone, and his father comes to pick him up. David Miller looks older than the last time Nate saw him, but his smile at the sight of his son is bright and real, his hug as solid as ever.

Nate holds on too long, because it might be the last time.

"Good to see you," says his father. "Did you check a bag?"

"No, just carry-on. I'm set to go. How's Mom?"

"She's doing well. She's at work, but she's looking forward to seeing you."

"How's work?"

"It's all right. Quiet. The start-up still crazy?"

"Same as ever, yeah." He settles into shotgun, puts his feet up on the dashboard as his father navigates out of the parking lot.

"How's Bellamy doing?"

"He's doing really well. He met his soulmate, she's great." He pauses. "Did I ever tell you about that?"

"About his soulmate? No."

Nate licks his lips. "Her name is Clarke Griffin. So--he assumed she was a guy. He was so--when we met he was trying really hard to figure out if he could ever be into men. Because he didn't want to blow his chance with his soulmate on something stupid like gender."

"I probably would have assumed the same thing. Was he disappointed? When she turned out to be a girl."

"No, he's bi," says Nate. "And he's so happy."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

Nate looks down at his hands. He needs to do it. He can't bear it anymore. "I lied to you," he says. 

His heartbeat is so loud in his ears, he can barely hear his father say, "About what?" He's so _concerned_. "What is it, Nate?"

He looks at his wrist, at the thick leather band he's been wearing for almost _seven years_. Seven years of keeping it hidden, even when he was out at school, even after he _met Monty_. He doesn't know how to take it off.

"My soulmate," he says. "It's not Mary Green. It's Monty Green." He wets his lips. "I'm gay, Dad."

His father doesn't say anything, but Nate sees him signal a lane change, and he stops the car when they make it to the breakdown lane. And then he turns, and Nate sees--god, his dad is fucking _crying_. "Nate," he says, like it's tearing his throat open. "If I--whatever I did to make you think you couldn't tell me, I'm so, so sorry. And I'm so thankful that you decided to tell me now."

Nate swallows, throws himself into his dad's arms, feels his breath come out ragged when his father clings back. "I wanted to tell you. I was just--I heard Grandma talking about Mom's sister, and I didn't know--I wasn't sure--"

"It's okay," says his dad. "It's okay. Thank you for telling me."

"He's amazing," says Nate. "I met him in September. He's--you're going to love him, Dad."

David pulls back to grin at him. "You met him?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you should have started with that. Tell me all about him."

"He's a junior in college, majoring in biochemistry. He was in Bellamy's history seminar, that's how I found out about him. Bellamy recognized his name." His fingers toy with the tie on his wristband; the urge to take it off is almost overwhelming, but-- "Dad."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think--what do you think Mom will say?"

"I think she'll feel exactly the same way I do. I think she's going to be so happy for you." He looks at his hands on the steering wheel. "And if she's not, I'll talk to her. I'll make her understand. But we'd never--there's nothing you could ever do to make me throw you out of my life, Nate."

He starts the car again, and Nate takes the chance to compose himself while his father isn't watching. He takes a few breaths, takes stock of himself.

He feels _better_.

They chat about Monty as they drive back, David asking all the right questions, inviting them both down any time, and Nate promises he'll see if they can work something out over spring break. He _wants_ Monty to meet his dad. To see his home.

He wants Monty to know everything about him, and it's overwhelming and perfect and terrifying, all at once.

It's easier, telling his mother, with his father by his side. She cries, and he cries, and, honestly, everyone cries for a while. He asks her, haltingly, about the aunt he's never met, finds out her name is Heather Jackson, and his mother was only twelve when she was disowned. She's tried to convince Grandma, over and over, to let it go, but Grandma is old and stubborn, and it got too hard to talk about.

"I should have tried harder," she says. "I should have told you it wasn't--I never imagined you'd hear that and think I agreed with her. I should have known better."

"It's okay," he says, and holds her, feels sick with all the years he lost to being afraid of this. 

But he has a lot more to come.

Clarke is the easiest text to write; he just sends her _You were right about parents._ Bellamy is next, and he goes with, _Not disowned. Now I have to buy them Christmas presents._

Monty, he frets over. Part of him wants to call, but he's going to dinner with his parents in a few minutes, and, honestly, he hates talking on the phone. Monty knows that. Monty won't mind a text.

Finally, he just unties his fucking wristband and throws it in the trash. He takes a picture of his bare wrist, Monty's name clear just past the sleeve of his shirt, and sends it with the caption, _On my way to dinner._

Monty texts back, _That's a good look for you_ , and Nate smiles.

_Yeah, I like it too._


End file.
